I found out whose blood I had fallen into at the wedding.

The precinct was like a beehive. Heels clattered across the floor and dress shoes squeaked against the tiles. Officers were running in and out while guests from the party washed inside in different waves and groups. Their cream colored gowns, sparkling jewelry, and crimson ties added to the sensory overload.  I was part of the first group of people to escape the scene, leaving me to sit on one of the plastic benches in the back with guests I hardly knew the names of.

Their makeup was in disarray, their spray tans doing little to mask the color draining from their faces. The flashing lights of the police cars pulling in and out of the parking lot lit us up in hues of blue and red. No one had spoken a word, everyone seemed transfixed on the glass doors at the front of the station. We watched as people came through.  Perhaps all of us waiting for a loved one to make it in okay.

I wondered when the gun men would walk through those doors, cuffed and masks off.

"Has your sister arrived?"

It took a second for me to tear my eyes from the entrance. I blinked away my thoughts and tried to focus on the face in front of me. A woman in long black pants that fanned out to the sides and a purple satin top was peering at me. She had cropped hair the same shade as my mothers. She had been at the wedding. I scrambled through the brain fog to try and place her - to figure out who she was to me. My mother's cousin, maybe.

"No," I answered. I kept the answer quick and simple, in fear that if I lingered on the fact for too long, I'd start crying again.

"She was in the car right behind mine," the woman said, with a heavy Jersey accent. "She's not hurt. She should be here any second."

I stood up, the fruity perfume she wore drowning me. It was strong but better than the smell of blood. Better than the scent of the ominous red stain at the tips of my skirt. My legs took me to the waiting area at the entrance of the police station where many of the other guests were. I knew the police had kept me in the back for a reason. As soon as the driver of the car indicated that I was the sister of the bride - the detectives said they might want to talk with me. I was kept at the back so I wouldn't disappear on them, so that when the chaos died down a little, they could pull me into one of the rooms that lined the outermost hallway and interview me.

That didn't matter to me then. All I wanted was to be the first one to greet my sister when she came in. Adonis would most likely be with her. Maybe Darren too.

"There you are!" A hand clamped around my elbow and I nearly screamed. Behind me stood my aunt and uncle with Julio in tow. They were unmarked by bloodstains or wounds, looking only slightly disheveled compared to how they had been before the incident.

"Where were you?" I asked, remembering how they had left to find Julio. I hoped that maybe they had escaped the shooting altogether because of their son's disappearance.

Before they answered, the couple pulled me into a suffocating hug that smelled of sweat and expiring deodorant. I noticed that Julio hadn't made a move from where he stood behind them, almost hiding. Forced to look over the two's shoulders as they embraced me, I stared hard at Julio. His tight brown curls were fallen over his face but it didn't mask how flushed his skin was. His eyes when they met mine, were glazed over and distant, unfocusing on any single person or object. He swayed as someone barely brushed past him.

"Is he drunk?" as the words left my mouth, heat poured into my chest. With the boy entering his teen years, I had known better than to expect he would never become curious about alcohol. But at a wedding? And we had to deal with it at a time like this? When people could be dead?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, shrinking into the suit that fit him a bit too loosely. "I know it was irresponsible -"

My uncle raised a rigid hand at the boy, his expression cold. "Not now. We have to make sure everyone is alright."

"We found Julio in one of the empty ballrooms of the hotel just before the shooting. We left with some of the employees out of a backdoor," my aunt said, her soft features twisting in anguish as she accessed me. "Where is Darren?"

My lips quivered at the thought of him not making it to the precinct safely. "I- I don't know. He put me in a car ahead of him."

As if sensing my spiral, Tìa placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed them firmly. "I saw plenty of police officers on my way over here. He'll be okay."

"How about Nancy and Adonis?" Julio asked, his skin tinting green either from the alcohol or from worry or both. He glanced down at my dress, finding the blood stain and some crusted blood on my knee that I must have missed while I cleaned up in the bathroom. "Whose blood is that? Did someone actually get shot?"

The sliding doors behind us slid open, sending in a late summer night breeze. A stampede of footsteps clacked against the floorboards, the loudest being the sharp click of heels. I turned around and spotted the shoes first. They were the sparkly white rendition of Dorothy's ruby slippers. I traced them up to the edges of a white gown held up by trembling hands. Nancy's tiara was lopsided on her head, nearly slipping off but too tangled in her updo to release her. Her face was covered in the black streaks of her mascara and her bloodshot eyes landed directly on me.

The buzzing of the police station seemed to be placed on mute for a long few seconds. Everyone's heads were turning to Nancy. She stood there similarly to how she did when she walked herself down the aisle but the image was corrupted. It was a page out of a classic nightmare: where the thing you cherished most was twisted and turned into your greatest fear by your own mind. I didn't know how I didn't notice it before - perhaps it was my brain's way of protecting me for as long as it could - but there was blood splattered along her side profile. It went down from her forehead to the edges of her dress but left her right side untouched. It was clear it wasn't her own, she was standing up too straight for it to be and the people beside her weren't calling for any medical help.

Pity-filled sighs and frightened gasps echoing throughout the station. As if taking the que that the gawking was over with, I heard a police officer radio in to someone stating that the bride had arrived.

Nancy charged up to us with fresh tears brewing in her eyes. Her voice was oddly strong and steady. It was that commanding power she took whenever she felt the most out of control. "Where's everyone? Where's Adonis and Darren? Is everyone else here? How many people are -?"

Julio excused himself, bolting towards the men's bathroom with a hand pressed over his mouth. My uncle squeezed Nancy's arm, his eyes locking on hers firmly for a quick moment. I was astonished at how much the small gesture had said, how he had communicated everything I was struggling to so simply and without words. He followed Julio, leaving his wife and I sobbing at the sight of Nancy.

"It was a gunman, right?" I said, gesturing to the blood. "A police officer shot down a gunman next to you?"

It was the best possible answer but I knew it was too wishful. Someone had been planted at Nancy's left side the entire night and was last seen there before I was forced to run away.

"He got up," she said, her voice cracking. She shook her head furiously, fighting back the emotion that was crawling up her throat. "He wasn't hurt too bad because he got up and started running. He could still be okay."

"Adonis . . ." Tìa whispered.

I remembered a man with a gun grabbing Adonis's collar. Asking him, "Where is it?"

Were they at the wedding because of Adonis? For him?

The same detective that had told me to stick around for an interview approached Nancy. He was tall and muscular, with dark skin and a neatly kept beard. He scratched at that beard as he analyzed Nancy. It was a cool, collected composure he wore on his face but somehow I had seen past that bravo. I knew he was about to say something earth shattering. Nancy must have known it too.

"Where is my husband?" she demanded. The detective towered over her but covered in blood and desperation, she was far more frightening. She jabbed her finger at the man, spit flying out of her mouth. "Where is he?!"

"The hotel has been fully evacuated. We have officers searching the area for the gunmen but it seems as though this attack was thoroughly planned. Their getaway was virtually flawless but we are working hard to track them down," the detective recited, his tone the only steady thing in the room.

Thoroughly planned? I shivered hard. 

"I don't care about the shooters! I want to know where my husband is!"

The detective swallowed and from the corner of my eye I saw Tìa grasp Nancy's hand tightly in her own.

"There has been a victim found dead in the hotel. He was the only person to have been shot . . ."

No.

I braced myself, holding my breath and feeling the ground shift beneath me. Adonis's face was fresh in my mind. I could picture him hovering over my dinner table, hesitating to say something and then disappearing with the promise of a shared dance later in the night. Then a million other memories of him resurfaced. I flipped through them like a photo album, soaking up all of his smiles, frowns and laughs until they were blurry. Adonis who wanted a short honeymoon because he was easily homesick, Adonis whose love language was making you tacos, Adonis who could never hold in laugh. He didn't belong in such a grotesque scene as this.

"The victim's description is as follows," the detective spoke. Each descriptive feature was another nail in the groom's coffin. "A five foot nine latino man in his mid to late twenties with black hair and brown eyes wearing a fitted . . ."

Nancy's eyes squeezed shut. My aunt teetered towards their intertwined hands to catch the weight of the bride melting to the ground.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you alright?"

I tried to grab onto Nancy to hold her up but she was slipping through my fingers. She was on her knees on the ground with her bloodied dress spreading beneath her. Her chest heaved as she wailed, shaking violently against Tìa's firm embrace. The sound had been so loud and mournful, my uncle and Julio were back to see what was wrong. As soon as they spotted Nancy, their expressions darkened. They both crouched down beside her, wordlessly joining the embrace. It was like they were all trying to hold her together.

Everyone in the station was fixated on the grieving bride. It allowed me to slip away into the restroom unnoticed.

It would have been inappropriate for me to cry as loudly as the newly widowed woman so I locked myself inside of the farthermost stall, sunk to the cold tiled floor, and muffled my sobs with the sleeves of my cardigan. Nancy needed to be able to grieve without thinking about me. I couldn't take the moment from her.

I sat until my thighs became numb to the icy floors and the bowl was filled with mucus drenched toilet paper.

Exhaustion slammed into me as my tears ceased. The checkered tiles began to blur in my vision as I rested my head against the wall. The sight of them awakened a new memory of Adonis, reminding me that maybe my tears were justified. Adonis wasn't just my sister's husband. He was family.

"Checkers is just a dumbed down version of chess," Nancy said, as she zoomed past Adonis and I. We were seated around the coffee table in the middle of a game. It was a little championship of our own making. Julio had gone against Darren. Darren won and went against me. I won and thus I was up against Adonis. Meanwhile, Nancy was practically running laps around the house making sure that all the Christmas festivities would run smoothly. She was checking the food in the kitchen, the gifts, everything and anything that could go wrong - instead of being present on Christmas eve. Classic Nancy.

Instead of answering, Adonis and I rolled our eyes coincidentally at the same time which made us both laugh.

"Don't be such a grinch, Nancy. Santa will put you on the naughty list," Julio said, getting up from his seat beside us to sneak another gingerbread cookie from the kitchen. After turning fifteen, he seemed to be completely unphased by Nancy's wrath. He'd go head to head with her without flinching. It was kind of epic.

I stared at the checkerboard until the reds and blacks blended together. Adonis had two pieces on the board, a king and a regular piece. I had one king left and I was cornered. There wasn't a space I could go to that wouldn't end in my piece being taken. Finally, I moved my piece with a groan.

"Hah!" Adonis raised his hands in the air with a celebratory cheer. Then he reclined back into the bottom of the sofa with a yawn like the game had both mentally and physically exhausted him. "Good game. You put up a fair fight."

"You couldn't have let her win, just this one time?" said Darren, sneaking up behind me and pulling me into him.

Adonis shook his head. "That wouldn't be a real win. Mickey wants the real deal."

"Fine, whatever. You're too honorable to let a nice girl win a game every now and then to make her feel better." Darren slid away from our spot on the floor to the Christmas tree where all the presents were wrapped up and labeled. He started poking around them, lifting them up and shaking them like a kid.

"Get away from there!" I warned.

"I'm just looking."

Turning back to Adonis who was absent mindedly stacking the checkers on top of each other, I whispered, "What did you get Nancy?"

He leaned in, glancing over his shoulder to be certain Nancy wasn't nearby. "Well, it seemed like she was running low on paint so I got her a new color set she mentioned was good."

"That's perfect." Nancy loved painting. On the walls of her room hung her own works of art, landscapes of hills with lavender fields running through them or - my favorite - a portrait of mom. She let me have that one on my eighteenth birthday. She saw how much I loved to stare at it. In truth, I was jealous of how much more clearly Nancy remembered her.

"Thanks. I hope she likes it." He placed a checker piece on his thumb, flipping it like a coin. "And Mickey, the only present I should be getting is from Nancy. If you and your family try to pull something off like last year, I hope you still have the receipt."

Last year my family and I had gotten something for Adonis from us, apart from Nancy. It felt like a natural thing to do considering at that point he had already functioned like he was part of the family. He was over for dinner at least once a week and had charmed the socks off my uncle and aunt. Adonis had no problem bringing over flowers or sweets but the second we would try to send him home with something it was met with protest. 

I thought of the present wrapped under the tree for him from Julio and I. It was the same beanie he loved to wear everywhere the second the weather was cold enough except in a different color. Black was classic and all but we thought a red one would spice it up for him.

"It isn't anything big," I said, picking at the fuzz on my socks.

"I don't want anything else from your family." His normally easy tempered disposition melted back as he tucked his head into his chest. "Being welcomed in is more than enough."

I slid the checker board toward Adonis and gently nudged him with the side of it. "You'll have to manage because Julio already threw out the receipt."

"This one time. Only because I got you something too." The easy grin was back on his face and he stood up motioning towards the kitchen. "Now let me help out Nancy before Julio single handedly steals Christmas."

The bathroom door creaked open and from my position on the floor, I saw shiny black loafers enter. I stood up and flushed the toilet as the shoes made their way down the line of stalls.

"Mickey? Are you here?"

The familiarity of the voice made me throw open the stall door. He had shed the coat of his suit and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

Darren was okay.

We both stood there, sweaty and pale under the fluorescent lights. My sudden appearance caused him to flinch backwards but the tension quickly fell off his expression when I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. I felt his muscles loosen, his breath blowing a strand away from my face as he sighed.

"When I saw your family crying out there and you weren't with them, I thought . . . I thought maybe - "

"It was Adonis. He was killed."

"I know."

I sniffled, burying myself deeper into his shirt. "Why would they kill him? Why would someone do that?"

Darren rested his chin atop of my head, squeezing me tightly. "That's a good question, Mickey. One I don't know the answer to."

I caught my reflection in the mirror again. My eyes wandered down to the blood on my dress and then the traces of it left on the sink when I had washed my hands.

Adonis had been the only one who had died and the only one who had been shot.

It was his blood that I wore. 

Author's Note: Remember to vote and comment!